Invisible

Gym was a disaster. We have it last block and in it besides Corrie and me is Kaylee, Tammy, and Triston. Three of my exes. I broke up with the last two. And of course, Kaylee more or less cheated on me I'm sure. Whore. But of course she'll think all Corrie's my revenge tool, and the other two we'll be vultures like they were about Kaylee, but now they were all on the same side.

I decided to leave Corrie be since I thought it would be best for all of us. Until I saw Kaylee's new boyfriend was in this class.

"Heeeey, Corrie, I was going to leave you be, but my ex is being a bitch." I pointed to where Kaylee was making out with the guy. "Want to help me get revenge?"

Corrie's hair is in a big poofy bun on the top of her head, so I can see her eyes now. They're a really clear dark blue. I also noticed she had the type of little nose every girl wants, it points up just a smidge, but she had a round, allover pretty face. "Do I have to kiss you?"

I laugh. "You know, most girls seem to find that enjoyable. But I take it you're in?"

"What would I have to do?"

"Honestly, just be really obnoxious with me."

"I don't do obnoxious. Or noticeable." She wrinkled her nose in a cute way.

"Alright."

"What? No fight?"

"I've pushed you out of your comfort zone enough."

But just then Kaylee pops up in front of us and we both jump. I'm completely tongue tied because I just re realized how hypnotizing her eyes could be. "Hi, Aaron."

It's a few seconds before I can think of a response, and it's only after I realize Corrie's retreating. I decide to let her go. My voice is surprisingly frosty when I do speak. "What do you want, Kaylee?"

"Don't be like that, Aaron," chides breezily. How did I ever think she was nice?

"Well, you shouldn't be a whore, but we aren't always what people think, are we?"

"And I thought you'd gotten over me. She was just your ploy to make me jealous, wasn't she?"

"No, but you are, aren't you?" I smirk. "Second guessing yourself already?"

She gives a really fake laugh and I know I'm right. "why would I be jealous of her? She was just the first little slut you picked up."

"That's rich, coming from you." I say viciously. "Leave her be, were just partners for English." I turn around and storm off, but Corrie very tactfully avoids me for the rest of class.

I'm convinced she's ditching working on the project tonight when after ten minutes of searching with Jake she's no where to be found.

"What do we do now?" Jake asks angrily as I trudge dejectedly off to my car, feeling awful.

But there she is, sitting on the hood of my car with her legs Indian style, elbows resting on her knees, her laced hands supporting her head as she reads. Her hair is back down and a curtain around her.

"Hey!" I yell, perking up instantly.

She looks up. "There you two are. I thought you'd never show up. I've been sitting here forever." Corrie tucks her book away and slides off the hood of the truck.

I'm positively beaming by the time I've started the truck up. Corrie's sandwiched in-between Jake and me. "I thought you were mad at me from gym." I say as I join the ranks of cars trying to leave the parking lot.

"I thought I'd clear out before she tried to kill me."

"What happened in gym?" Jake asks.

"Kaylee was being a bitch, what else?" I say.

"But she broke up with you."

"I don't get girls. Corrie here is a perfect example."

Corrie rolled her eyes.

The rest of the trip is awkward. Jake and I try to start up conversations, but Corrie doesn't seem to know how to keep one going, or maybe she just doesn't want too.

We pull into Jake's driveway, which is literally across the street and two houses to left from mine. Corrie keeps staring up at the tops of houses and I remember hers was one story. Maybe she's uncomfortable with being in this rich of a neighborhood. Mental note: spend time with her at her house. Unless she doesn't want to show me she lives a poorer lifestyle. why is this so hard?

Jake led the way into the basement, which had two rooms, and Jake had taken over the largest for his own.

"You know, for the single most hyper kid I know, you're a neat freak," I say, observing the crisply folded bed. Not a single thing was out of place anywhere.

"What do you think I'm supposed to do with all that energy?"

"Trash the place."

Corrie threw her backpack down beside the little table Jake had in his room and sat in one of the four chairs.

"Lets get started," Jake said, clapping his hands and taking the seat opposite Corrie. Her hands were in the air, hesitating, but then she began to pull her hair back into a ponytail as I sat down between the two of them. Jake, thinking nothing of it, pulled out his English binder, but I gave Corrie a small smile, then proceeded to pull out mine to.

"Kay, so it has to be about someone being lost... Like in the woods? Maybe they could get eaten by wolves," Jake mused.

"I think it's supposed to be deeper than that. Like lost figuratively," Corrie said, staring at her own blank page.

Jake stared at her blankly. "So our main character's in a nut house?"

"You're hopeless," Corrie said. "You get what I mean, right, Aaron?"

I don't smile, because I understand exactly what she means. Instead I bite my lip. "So lets have our main character be a girl, our age, and she's in with the wrong crowd, drugs and all that." I purposefully differ from what Corrie's story might be, and I know this is different because I haven't seen Corrie talk to anyone but me period.

Corrie took onto that. "So she's like in a really dark place. And-"

"The hero comes into the story, sweeps her off her feet, and fixes her up!" I say optimistically.

Corrie shut me down instantly. "No. Real-life doesn't have happy endings like that. Lets have a hero, yes, but he doesn't fix her in time. She commits suicide, and dies."

"That's depressing," Jake said.

"Do you want a good grade or not? We have to be different from everyone else, and they're all going to write about getting eaten by wolves or happy endings."

"Are you saying I'm average?" Jake asks, mockingly offended.

"Not with this clean of a room."

I laugh at that. "Okay, who has the best hand writing?"

We both look at Corrie expectantly.

"What, you think just because I'm a girl I have good handwriting?" She asks, then shakes her head. "It's like chicken scratch."

"Jake then, 'cuz mine sucks too," I say and Jake shrugs.

For the next hour Corrie comes up with basically all the ideas and words, but we still are only two minutes into the play.

"You really have a knack for this. Writing," Jake says. "You're my partner for writing assignments. Permanently. I'll beg Ms. Glen and everything."

"I'm not that good," Corrie says immediately.

"Better than us," I say.

Corrie flushes a bit.

Then someone comes stomping down the stairs and I know it's Jake's mom because I more or less live at his house. Jake makes a little groan and Corrie looks like she's reverting to her I'm-going-to-disappear-now state.

The door is thrown open and Jake's father comes in. Mr. Dilling is a huge man, with a goatee, and the perfect representation of intimidation. Corrie squeaks softly.

"Good to see you, Aaron. Who are you, miss?" He booms.

"I'm Corrie," she says.

"Were working on an English project," Jake said pointedly.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to stop. Your mother is dragging us off to Anna's."

"Now?"

"Now," said Mr. Dilling in a long-suffering voice. "And you know how she gets..."

Jake looked back to us apolagetically.

"It's fine man. We've got a good head start because of Corrie." She blushes.

"I was kind of hoping you'd say, no we have to finish it now." Anna is Jake's crazy great-aunt.

"Come on, Corrie, I'll drive you home." I begin to pack my stuff away while Jake's father tromps back upstairs.

When we're safely in the car, I say, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Guess not."

"Can I have your phone number?"

Seemingly, without a will to fight, Corrie takes my phone and types her number in. I can't help but wonder if it's going to be a fake. The closer we get to her house, the smaller she gets in the seat. I stop on her street.

"Promise you'll pick up if I call," I say.

"I promise," she says.

She makes no move to open her door, though, instead she stares up at her house through my windshield. Eventually, she says, "Promise you'll call?"

"I swear it," I say, smiling. She gets out, but doesn't return it, or wave. Progress is progress.